Nostalgic Fathers Day

Sometimes I feel like so many holidays are simply ‘Hallmark’ opportunities –  marketing schemes to get you to spend money. So I’ll step back and look at it another way.  If it makes you take a moment in an otherwise impossibly busy life, to think about that fact that you have a patriarchal lineage that you can be proud of and thankful for and how much it’s meant to you along the way, or for those whose fathers and grandfathers have passed, how much you miss them and what great memories you have been left with, maybe there is merit in the holiday after all.

I am fortunate enough to have long-lived family members.  I had my grandpa until just a few years ago, and my father is still around and healthy.  Lucky girl.  My grandpa taught me self-reliance, endless optimism, and a belief that there is inherent good in everyone.  He never met a stranger, saw the glass as half full always, and took time to listen and make you feel important,  no matter who you were.  He was incredibly talented in so many ways.  A cobbler by trade (here in his shoe shop in the 40’s), he could fix anything and come up with the greatest ‘inventions’ to solve a problem.   And he was effusive in his affection for his family.  I carry the mantle of his heritage proudly.

My dad was a quiet man, a huge animal lover (here he is with his cat as a young boy), and so easy-going.  He loved a good joke, and sports.  Really loved sports.  He also enjoyed dancing and having a good time.  He lives in another city, but we talk often about all sorts of subjects. And he still makes me laugh.  There isn’t any better medicine.

Fathers Day reminds me of how grateful I am to have known so many good men, men who I can look up to and know are there for me.  And if I feel compelled to buy a few cards in the process, so be it.

Advertisements